


Unopened

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Hogwarts Era, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-09
Updated: 2006-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-27 13:56:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10810404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Missing moment from christmas of the 6th year.  What do Hermione and Ron think about on Christmas eve.





	Unopened

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: This is my first fic here in TQP and I am really excited about sharing it with you all.  I love to get reviews too, so dont be shy.  


* * *

**** Unopened  


 

 

Hermione Granger sighed heavily as she stared out of her bedroom window.   


 

The snow was falling outside, and the streetlights bathed the wintry scene with a soft orange glow.  Inside, the spicy smell of mulled wine hung in the air and the Christmas decorations around her home were nothing short of spectacular, but try as she might she just couldn’t get excited about it. Her heart was just not in it this year.  Even with the festive weather outside and the excitement of her parents at her being home with them, Hermione just couldn’t lift the blanket of hopelessness and depression that seemed to have enveloped her.  Crookshanks rubbed himself up against her leg and purred loudly, hoping to stir some sort of emotion from her, but she couldn’t even bring herself to stroke him.  


 

On the bed, her trunk sat open and half-unpacked.  Lying on her bed were clothes, parchments, and used quills, which were uncharacteristically scattered untidily. At the bottom of her trunk lay three beautifully wrapped but unopened gifts.  One of which was the source of her misery.  


 

She had been very methodical this year and had bought her Christmas gifts during the autumn trip to Hogsmeade.  She had wrapped them and kept them safe in her room at school until now, but all that organisational skill had gone to waist.  Two of the gifts were not given out because she had not seen either Harry or Ginny before leaving Hogwarts that morning, but the other gift, well, that was the one that even if the recipient had been there, she probably would not have given it to him.   


 

She picked up one of the two smaller gifts from the trunk and read the tag she had so carefully written last week…  


 

 

_To Harry,_  
_Happy Christmas._  
_Thank you for being a true friend to me this term, I can’t tell you how much it has meant to me that you have been there for me._  
_Yours,_  
_Hermione.  
_ __

 

__

 

She placed the package back into her trunk and picked up the second gift.  This one made her smile.  She had spent a lot of time in wrapping this one.  It was a small bed, which she had made, for Arnold, Ginny’s pigmy puff.  She had wrapped ribbon around it and tied a very ornate bow on the top.  She took the tag, flipped it over, and read the message…  
 __

 

___To Ginny,_  
_Happy Christmas._  
_Thank you for being there this term as a friend and confidant to me.  I can not thank you enough for the support and friendship you have given me during this time.  Your constant shoulder has been a better gift to me than anything else.  Thank you._  
_Hermione._   


 

Again, she placed the package carefully back into her trunk, leaving only one gift left to reminisce over.  


 

She looked for a long time at this particular package, feeling the jumble of emotion rush through her body at the sight of it.  She had mixed feelings about this gift, a gift she had bought before the beginning of term and wrapped before the whole Lavender development.  Part of her wanted to throw it in the bin, discard it as swiftly as the recipient had discarded her, but she didn’t.  She couldn’t bring herself to throw away something that she knew would make him happy.  As much as she loathed him right now, she still cared for him. How could she not?  He had been a friend to her, a true friend, that she had hoped would develop into something else.  There was even the chance that it could have, at the ‘ Slug Club’ party, but that was a distant dream now.     


 

She felt her heart clench a bit at the thought of that awful party.  It was supposed to be so different, so special, but instead it had been a disaster.  McClaggen had been a dreadful choice of a partner, only useful as a tool to annoy Ron, but even that feeble attempt at revenge seemed to have failed.  Ron had not been bothered at all; it had just fuelled his snogging feasts with Lavender.  All she had achieved at that party was to be yet again misinterpreted as the kind of girl who would want a date to include heavy petting and kissing.  Victor had thought the same, although his kiss had been less forceful and his manners had been impeccable, his end game had still been the same as Cormac McClaggen, an easy hand slipped around her waist and an assumption that she was willing to be kissed.  


 

Maybe she was naïve, inexperienced but she had never thought she would have been so easily duped…twice.  
She reached for the parcel and slowly ran her fingers across the festive paper.  It was new Quidditch Keeper gloves, made from dragon hide, very rare and expensive.  A gift she had hoped at the time would have symbolised both Ron’s qualities as a player and as a keeper…of her heart.  But that sentiment had been lost the night she found him wrapped around Lavender Brown like some sort of Devil’s Snare root.   


 

She turned the tag over in her hand, the only tag that she had written as soon as she had wrapped the gift back in October, and read what she had written to the boy who had now, ironically, broken her heart.  


 

 

_“To Ron,_  
_Happy Christmas._  
_I saw these and thought of you.  You are the only Keeper I know worthy of such a fine…oops I almost told you what’s inside…but I hope you like them, you really do deserve them._  
_Thank you for being a great friend._  
_Love,_  
_Hermione_  
_xx”_   


 

 

She moved to the other side of her room and opened her wardrobe.  At the bottom was a locked box with the words “For the Future” written on the top.  She felt underneath the large cupboard, searching for something, then stopped.  She pulled out a small key and opened the box.  Inside were several items, all of which held a promise of sorts for the future; a small, old notebook; a detailed, jewelled hair-clip; a small bottle of perfume; a coin and now, a Christmas gift.  She placed the gift carefully in and lay a lingering hand on it.  


 

“Why?” she whispered.  


 

Then she closed the box, locked it, and put it back in its hiding place at the bottom of her wardrobe. She gently replaced the key to its safe notch under the cupboard.  Then she took a deep, steadying breath and moved back to the window seat.   


 

The snow was still falling, the orange glow of the streetlights was still there, and the ache in her heart that she had so valiantly tried to hide for the last few weeks was as painful as ever.  A single tear escaped from her eye and gently rolled down her cheek, she didn’t even have the energy to wipe it away.  


 

Christmas was a time to be happy and jubilant, but for this young soul, those feelings were far away.  


 

***************  


 

Ron Weasley pulled his bed sheets back.  Christmas Eve used to be his favourite time of the year… but not this year.   


 

He looked out of his tiny window and could see the faint sign that it was snowing. There was little to no light outside, so he couldn’t be sure, but it felt cold enough for it.  There was a constant buzz from the hustle and bustle in the living room and kitchen as the family gathered for the Christmas feast tomorrow, but although the house was full, Ron felt alone.  Something or more to the point, someone, was missing.  


 

Glancing at his small pile of presents, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret at the one gift that he wished he had given.  


 

At the bottom of his bed, amongst the gifts he had to open in the morning, was a carefully wrapped present that had been meant for his ex-best friend, Hermione.   


 

He had thought long and hard about what the perfect gift should be and had decided to give her what he thought would be a thoughtful and heartfelt collection of things that she had mentioned while smelling the Amortentia in the Potions lesson months ago.  He had bought her fresh parchment, not even opened from its packaging, hoping that the smell would be unveiled as she opened it.  Also, he included a picture of the three of them at ‘The Burrow’ a few summers ago lying on the grass by the pond. She may not be able to smell the freshly cut grass, but it was as close as he could get. Finally, he guessed…hoped, that the final smell might be chocolate, so he had bought her a chocolate frog.  


 

It wasn’t much, but he had thought long and hard about this gift.  Apparently it had all been wasted brainpower.  They were no longer talking; the gift was now worthless.   


 

He cringed at how quickly things had deteriorated between himself and Hermione. Things had been said and done by both of them, horrible, unforgivable things, and now he felt that the situation between them would never be the same as it has been before that fateful day in November.  


 

He was still angry with her, very angry at the lie that she had told him about Viktor, her lack of interest, and her lack of confidence in his ability to be good at something, namely Quidditch, but there was a part of him that still cared deeply for her.  


 

The he thought about his present position - Lavender Brown’s boyfriend - and he cringed again.  How did he get in this far? It wasn’t supposed to be this way! He was only going to snog her, annoy Hermione and then…well, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. He hadn’t expected anything to happen.   


 

Things had spiralled out of his control very quickly, and he didn’t know what to do.  He hadn’t anticipated the strangle hold Lavender would place on him, and he hadn’t thought about the feelings of anyone other than Hermione and himself.  Lav’ was a good girl, but he wanted out, and it was only out of a pathetic cowardice that he was still with her. He hadn’t thought of her feelings in all this, well, not on that night in November anyway, but now he didn’t want to hurt her.  It was a mess, and he wished he had never sought revenge in the first place. Things could have been so different, but…  


 

But right here, right now he missed Hermione and regretted everything that had happened.   


 

He picked up the gift and read the label he had placed on it.  A few simple words that he hoped would help re-build a friendship that was so very important to him.  


 

_To Hermione,_  
_I remembered what you said. I hope these make you happy._  
_Love,_  
_Ron._   


 

 

He sighed, wishing he had been brave enough to give her the present, but he had not been.   


 

He pulled a tatty, dusty box from beneath his bed and opened it.  Inside was an array of what anyone else would have though rubbish, but to Ron they were his treasures; Martin Miggs’ comics’, chocolate frog cards, and old battered quaffle, an ugly, threadbare teddy with a patch on his eye, a broken quill and now an unopened gift.  He placed the gift into the box slowly and left a lingering hand on it.  


 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.  


 

He put the lid back on and pushed the box back to its hiding place under his bed.  


 

Ron climbed into his bed, turned on his side.  He swallowed hard, trying to push down the emotional lump that had now settled in his throat.   


 

Christmas was a time to be happy and jubilant, but for this young soul, those feelings were far away.  


 


End file.
